Round The Bases
by CinnyMon
Summary: Baseball tickets, sushi, and a socially awkard date. What could get any better than this? Wesker x Jill fluff


For Mistress Mary D. – who was one of the two winners on the last chapter's contest on what was the quote from the book. Each of them spotted one of the TWO that were in the last chapter, and they were the first two to send me the answers, so they were the first to win the fics.

**Mary D. wanted a fluffy Wesker x Jill – so here it is! Enjoy! **

**(Wow, my first straight publishing…O.o)**

**Also note that I don't know their ages, therefore, I'm making them up!! **

--

Jill was unsure of what to do. She had brushed her teeth twice, combed her hair more times than she could count, and had tried on enough clothes to garb a small third world country. She had applied and unapplied make up over and over, and she had almost broken down into hysterics. Earlier that day, she actually _had_ broken down into a crying fit, until Chris had found her and nearly shat himself with worry that something was wrong. But in all actuality, nothing was wrong. For the first time in her 25 years, something was going incredibly right.

Wesker, the Albert Wesker, had asked _her_ out on a _date_. He had done it so subtly and so off handedly, that at first, she thought that it was all some cruel practical hoax. But as it turned, Wesker really had wanted to take her out on a date. The past conversation went something like this.

"_Miss Valentine,"_

"_Oh, Hello Captain." A curt nod on Jill's end._

_There was silence in the break room – Wesker was looking over countless reports. Jill had, stupidly, dropped her car keys in the room somewhere, during the last briefing. Without those, there would be no way home._

"_Missing something?" Wesker asked._

"_Uh…my car keys…I dropped them somewhere in here." Jill felt stupid to admit such a thing._

"_Really," Something jingled cheerily, "You mean these?" And there was Wesker, holding her car keys in on hand, a black pen in the other. From the other side of the room, Jill could see her decorated house key shine in the lighting._

"_Those are it!" She said, smiling. God did she feel like an idiot!_

"_Catch." Wesker said, lobbing the keys. They bobbed in air for a second, and then dropped into her hands skillfully._

"_Quite a throw." Jill complemented._

"_I was the pitcher for a baseball team when I was younger. I guess the skill of throwing never truly leaves you." He shrugged, and then was once more hunched over his paperwork._

"_You played ball?" Jill was baffled. Wesker didn't seem like the physical, sporty type._

"_Indeed." He said, not looking up from his papers. Jill figured that their conversation had dropped, and moved to leave, but then Wesker coughed, and Jill looked back at her Captain._

"_Speaking of ball…I…a friend of mine gave me some extra tickets to the Brawler's game tonight. Would you be interested in accompanying me?" He asked, and Jill nearly did a double take. Was that a blush on Albert Wesker's face?!_

"_Me?" She asked incredulously. Wesker nodded. Jill gaped like a fish for a moment. Part of her screamed not to be naïve, Wesker really wasn't _that_ into her, but then another part of her was pleading for her to say yes, that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and it was staring her right in the face._

"_I understand if you don't really want to-"_

"_No." Jill said with a light smile. "I'd love to go."_

"_That's…great! Yeah." Wesker let loose a little smile, proving his ability to show human emotions (which sometimes Jill doubted), and chuckled. "Is six okay for me to pick you up, the game starts at eight, but I thought that we could go out for dinner. That is, if you want to. If you don't, I could-"_

_Jill cut off his anxious rambling, "Dinner sounds great."_

And so, here that brought Jill, wearing her hair up in a bun, a pair of blue jean capris cuffed at the bottom, and a low cutting yellow shirt, all to top off with a pair of black flats. It was cute and conservative, but not overly such, in her mind. But what would the Captain think?

A knock at the door didn't give her time to dwell as she pocketed her cell phone and slipped her leather purse over her shoulder. She stumbled to the door, almost flipping over her cat Rocky on the way, and yanked it open. There stood Wesker in all of his glory, wearing his usual trademarked shades, jeans, and a skintight black V-neck shirt.

"You look…beautiful." He said, handing her flowers that she didn't even realize that he was holding. She took them with a blush.

"Th-thank you, Captain." She stammered. Her body forgot how to walk for a moment as her eyes roamed over Wesker's body. He looked…like the utter epitomic god of sexiness.

"Please, call me Albert." He said, and then almost mentally slapped himself for saying it. His name was so incredibly old fashioned, it sounded like he was 90 goddamned years old, instead of 27!

Jill smiled like an idiot, "Okay then, _Albert_."

Wesker grimaced as soon as Jill turned her back to him, and felt like he just wanted to melt into the floor. He was being about as smooth as shredded sandpaper. Score one for the Captain. Jill returned a moment later without the flowers and shut the door to her house behind her.

"Ready to go?" she asked. Wesker curtly nodded. Without a moment to spare, he walked her to his car and chauffeured her inside. His Land Rover wasn't the ideal date car, but it was clean, and seemed to really reflect the _true_ Albert Wesker, in Jill's mind – one who was proper at work, but wasn't afraid to do something outlandish and fun in private. He was her kind of man.

_Shut up._ She chided herself, _it's only a date, it's not like he's going to marry you, or hell, even _sleep_ with you! Stop acting like a giddy little schoolgirl._

She was vaguely aware in that she was tuning Wesker out, and he was speaking to her. "Hunh?" she snapped herself out of her daze.

"I said, I hope you like fish."

--

To say that Wesker had treated her to a lavish dinner would be a sad understatement. It was _grand_. Above and beyond what she was expecting, and dressed for. He had taken her to the most expensive sushi restaurant in Raccoon City, Bi Pan Lo's, and this was only _half_ of the date. And it was only the first date too. What would the second and third one be like?

_That is, if there _is _another date. At the rate you're inhaling your food, there won't even be a baseball game to go to._ Mentally, Jill told her pessimistic side to shut the hell up.

--

One look around the parking lot of Brawler's Stadium told Jill that Wesker's friend wouldn't just willingly give up these tickets, there had to be bribery involved, for it seemed that that almost every baseball fan in Raccoon was here.

"Wow." Was all Jill could say as Wesker pulled into a parking spot about a block off from the stadium.

"I didn't expect for it to be this packed." Wesker muttered as he opened his door. He removed the tickets from his pocket and played with them idly as Jill stepped out from the other side of the car. Catching in stride with her captain, the two made for the arena.

As they passed by the old opera house, Jill's hand brushed against Wesker's. It sent an amazing jolt of electricity throughout both bodies, shocking the two. The man slackened his grip and nimbly, albeit blushing, Jill slipped her hand into his. Her face was now probably as red as the dipping sauce she had used for her fish. Meanwhile, Wesker was thinking along the same line – mainly, if it was morally right to be holding hands on the first date. Yes, he was that much of a prude. Unbeknownst to the couple, the tickets flew from Wesker's hand and down the street.

Approaching the stadium's ticket booth, a burly man (who somewhat resembled Barry) held out his beefy hand. "Tickets, please."

"Okay." Wesker, unwillingly, dropped Jill's hand. He dug into his pocket, expecting to marvel at the tickets that he had nearly spent an entire weeks worth of pay on, but came up empty handed. This didn't impress the ticket stall man. A sinking feeling developed in the man's stomach as he dug into his other pocket. Nothing but his car keys.

"What? I just had them!" he hissed frantically.

The ticket man rolled his eyes, and in a Brooklyn accent stated, "Lookie here, buddy, no ticks, no entrance. Sorreh, but it'd da rules. An' it's game time." He moved to shut the large iron curtain.

It was Jill who was pleading, "No! Wait, please can't you just-"

"Nada, ma'am. No ticks, no gettin in." And with that, he slammed the gate down. Inside the stadium, Jill (with envy) could hear all of the fans cheering, and the sports announcers crowing out the player's names. She turned to Wesker and suddenly felt an extreme amount of pity at his state. He was frowning and the blush that was plastered to his face gave off the air of failure.

"I know this didn't work out the way it was planned," Jill said, wrapping her arms around Wesker's shoulders, "And I'm sorry."

"No, I should be sorry." He sighed. "Really, I am."

"Why?" she was truly perplexed. "You took me out to an amazing dinner, and I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in awhile. It was great."

"You think so?" he asked.

Jill nodded, her gaze trailing the Brooklyn accented man. He rounded around the stadium and to a gate, by a wall. Her mind suddenly produced an elaborate plan, something that she hadn't done since her thieving days with Dick.

"I know so." She said helpfully, "And, I know how we can get into the stadium."

Wesker turned around, "Enlighten me."

She smirked, "Once a thief, always a thief." She said simply. She grabbed Wesker's hand (this time, there was no electricity) and pulled him off the way that the worker had gone. It only took her a minute to find the gate that he had gone through, and by no surprise, had he bolted it. Oh well, the unconventional way worked just as well.

"What _are _we doing?" Wesker demanded, a little out of breath from the sudden run.

"Breaking and entering," Jill said simply, "Why?"

"You do realize we could get the cops called on us?"

Jill gave him an incredulous look, "You do realize that we _are_ the cops?" they stared at each other for a moment, eye to eye, before Wesker gave out a bark of laughter and Jill followed in suit with giggles.

"I guess we are." He shrugged. "Now what? You'll have to educate me in the art, seeing as though I've never done this before."

"What?!" Jill gasped, grabbing onto the wrought iron bars of the stadium, "Not even as a kid?"

"Well excuse me for following the law." He said sarcastically.

"Ouch, that hurt you know." She faked, and then giggled again. It was hard to do, climbing in flats after all proved to be a harder task than recognized, but finally she succeeded. Holding on to the top of the gate, just by her hands, she slowly inched over to the stonewall that sat parallel to the bleachers. Judging by the uproar, the opening pitch had just been thrown. Clawing at the bricks, she grabbed onto the wall with her hand, and then used her forearms to hoist herself, and all of her weight onto it.

"Easy as pie," she smirked. "Now, what can you do?"

"Certainly not that." Wesker said under his breath, but just loud enough so that she could hear him. Even though she did, Jill pretended not to, instead just saying, "Wow! Look at Granderson throw, what a fastball!"

The crack of a bat was heard and suddenly, Wesker really wanted to be up there too, seeing the game. Throwing his morals and good boy attitude out the window, he too scaled the fence and suddenly found himself clinging onto the top of the gate, unsure of what to do.

"Uh…?"

"Oh!" Jill moved over. Wesker grunted a 'thanks' and shimmied over to the wall, pulling himself up with all of his might.

"Decide to break the law, did you?" Jill teased. It was amazing how open she could be after spending only a few hours with her captain.

"Why yes I did, _Jillian_."

"Well that was mighty courageous of you, _Albert_."

The two smiled and faced the ballpark. Luckily it was only the top of the second inning and Jill's favorite player, Ivan Rodriguez, was at the plate.

"Go Rodriguez!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, "Hit one out of the park!"

"Jeez," Wesker rubbed at his ears, "Make a man deaf, will you?"

--

It was the bottom of the ninth, naturally, and the Brawlers were trailing by only a single run. At bat was a great third baseman for the team, Brandon Inge, who was almost as dirty as the dirt itself from sliding into home once or twice. Like every baseball movie ever portrayed, the count was stacked against them, with only one ball and two strikes. All and all, everyone was expecting a heartbreaking loss. Most of the once crowded bleachers had dispersed and left, not wanting to see the letdown that would befall them. Because of that, Jill and Wesker had hopped off of the wall and into the stadium, making their way into the nosebleed section, or what was left of it.

"This honestly has to be the most fun I've had in…forever!" Jill admitted, on the edge of her seat at Inge's ball rolled fowl. The count was now two and two. Almost everybody, the ones were left, of the crowd was on their feet, cheering and screaming their lungs out. Wesker was really tempted to join them.

"So have I!" Wesker yelled, in an attempt to raise his voice over the crowd.

"What?" Jill couldn't under stand him. The din was too loud. But Wesker couldn't hear her either, so he just kept talking.

"I think that I might…" the rest of his words were drowned into the crowd's screeches.

"What are you saying? I can't hear you!" Jill yelled louder, and she too was on her feet, just like everyone else. Wesker leapt as another ball fowled; now the count was three and two.

"I THINK I LOVE YOU." He screamed. Jill was facing the playing field, but despite that, Wesker grabbed her shoulders and kissed her fully on the lips. Jill was too shocked to register anything at first, not even the crack of the bat as Inge took off. Forget the sparks from the hand holding, this was like someone was lighting off fireworks in their mouths; in no way was this unspectacular. The kiss broke when the bleachers before them sounded like a cannon had hit them. Shocking the couple, Wesker bent down to see what it was, and came up smiling. There he was, holding the winning home run ball.

Pulling Jill into another kiss, he pressed the ball into her hand. When the kiss broke, he leaned into her ear, so that he wouldn't have to repeat himself.

"Care to get to third base?" He cleared his voice, then added, blushing, "In good time, of course?"

And there was no way that Jill could say no.

--

**Well, Mistress, I hope that you liked it. **

**I worked on it for three days straight, or something like that, and I thought that the baseball idea was impeccably cute. If anyone can name who the Brawler's are based off of, then brownie points for you, and if I feel like it, maybe a fic too.**

**Yus, I always need something to do!!**

**Don't worry, Tyger, you're up next!!**

**REVIEW PLEEZUMS**

**DON'T YOU KNOW IT'S RUDE NOT TO?! **


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